Page 32 of The Parent Trap

“Because you just weren’t that type. You never did anything but homework, study, and work for your dad.” I smirk. “Also, I always kind of assumed you just didn’t…do…that. To anyone, let alone an adult for extra GPA points.”

She frowns. “I don’t know whether to be insulted by that or not, actually.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure how I meant it, myself.”

“I mean, on the one hand, I worked my ass off. Anyone who actually knew me knew that was true.” She stares into the fire, which is going low at this point. “But you assuming I wouldn’t blow anyone? Like, you assume I’m just this…sexless robot? I’m glad you knew I wouldn’t suck off an adult—Mr. Greely especially, becausegross.”

“Whoever started that rumor about you and Mr. Greely must have started it about a few girls, because I heard it about you, Tanya Moynihan, and Kelly Tanner.”

She snickers. “In Kelly’s case, it could be true.”

“She barely graduated—what are you talking about?”

A snort. “Yeah, and I think it’s possible she did something with Mr. Greely to let her graduate, because that girl didnothing. Literally, nothing, ever. She failedgymclass because she refused to change. She failed lit class sophomore year because she kept turning in book reports onMarie Clairearticles instead of the books.” She glances at me, and I can tell she’s feeling the scotch. “I’m not a sexless robot, Thai Bristow. I’ve had sex. Ilikesex. I’ve even given a blowjob before.”

I genuinely don’t know how to answer. My previous observation of her plump, pink, sparkly lips suddenly seems less innocent, with that statement out in the air.

Delia…blowjob.

It doesn’t compute. She’s not a sexless robot, I know that intellectually. She’s got more curves than a mountain road, and in the past few weeks I’ve seen her dress to accentuate it, if not flaunt it. Logically, it’s only sensible that she’s not a virgin. But—

My brain, that strange, deviant place, feeds me an image.

Of Delia.

On her knees.

That thick, lustrous black hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, maybe a few flyaway wisps in her eyes and sticking to her lips. Which are parted…to close around my cock. Blue, blue, crazy blue eyes staring up at me as her lips stretch around me.

Sink down.

I blink, and the image vanishes, and suddenly it’s just Delia and I again, several feet between us, on a log in clearing in the woods.

Clothed.

And enemies.

What the fuck was that?

That willneverhappen.

I don’t even want it to. That’s Dell’s sister, his twin.

And she fuckinghatesme.

Yet we’ve had this whole conversation, and it’s been remarkably…civilized. Only a few digs have been exchanged.

“Nothing to say to that, huh, Thai?” She rolls her eyes.

“No, I just…” I huff. “I believe you.”

“Oh, well,” she laughs, “thanks for that. I’m so glad you believe me when I say I’m not a nun.”

“I mean, no shit. No nun I’ve ever met wears skirts likethat.”

Knee-length, green and white plaid, tight around her hips yet stretchy enough to move with her. White button-down, unbuttoned to show enough cleavage to hint at alotmore left unseen. Incongruously, she’s wearing mud-stained pink camouflage Crocs with the outfit. I can’t help but snort at the sight of them.

“Don’t laugh at my Crocs. I only wear them to do yard work.”